


Twirling down time’s corridors I see your shadow dancing

by tigriswolf



Series: comment_fic drabbles [205]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, Healing, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 08:52:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2103165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first, after Odessa, as she floats in and out of consciousness, she remembers him in dreams. He had no name, but his hands were strong, his eyes cold, and his body warm as he danced with her. </p><p>But it was a dream, only a dream, because Natasha has never been a dancer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twirling down time’s corridors I see your shadow dancing

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Twirling down time’s corridors I see your shadow dancing  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Olga Levertoff  
> Warnings: Spoilers for everything 'til WS. Memory issues, sadness, talk of violence.  
> Pairings: Clint/Natasha, a little implied Steve/Bucky, past-Natasha/Bucky if you read it as such  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 720  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: MCU, Clint/Natasha +/ Bucky, If Bucky was her Winter Soldier, then Clint was her summer soldier

At first, after Odessa, as she floats in and out of consciousness, she remembers him in dreams. He had no name, but his hands were strong, his eyes cold, and his body warm as he danced with her. 

But it was a dream, only a dream, because Natasha has never been a dancer. 

.

Clint cuts a mission short, ignores his handler’s complaints, and arrives merely a day after SHIELD pulls Natasha from the wreckage. 

(She knows it was the Winter Soldier, but does not say it – the Winter Soldier is a myth. 

She also knows she should be dead. But she lives, and she dreams of dancing.)

Clint takes her home and smothers her with affection. She is unused to the care, to the gentleness, to the rage on her _behalf_ \-- he promises to find whoever it was, put a bullet in the bastard’s eye. Natasha listens in silence and when Clint’s rage is spent, she curls up in his lap, rests her head on his shoulder, and sleeps. 

.

She dreams of dancing. Of blue eyes, of a warm hand and a cold one, of murmured songs in English, and being called _sweetheart_ in a soft voice. 

There is much she does not remember, and less she trusts. But -- _I knew him_ , she thinks, waking in Clint’s arms, watching the sunlight spread across the room. _I knew him_.

.

Captain America is found, the tesseract taken, Clint _stolen_. Natasha brings in Bruce Banner, Thor arrives on his own, and though Loki opens a portal, Natasha closes it. 

Even after SHIELD’s psychics release Clint, there are still those in authority who want to punish him for the entire thing. And Natasha wants to take him and run, to protect him, but instead she tells him to go to ground somewhere, to stay out of sight, and she remains with SHIELD to ensure his safety. 

And then – “Fast, strong, had a metal arm,” Steve Rogers tells her while Nick Fury dies. 

“A ghost,” she says. She thinks, _I knew him_. 

.

James Buchanan Barnes. The American. The Winter Soldier. 

“Bucky?” Steve says, and Natasha’s got a bullet in her shoulder, and those eyes – 

But he doesn’t even look at her. She’s dreamed of him for years and he’s only staring at Steve, but his face – 

And he’s gone.

.

There is no time to call Clint. 

Someone drags Steve, half-dead, onto the shore of the Potomac. Natasha makes the best decision she can with the little time she’s given, and she knows that people will die. But more will live. She cannot – there is so much red and it will never be washed clean, but she does her best because it is _all_ she can do.

She hands Steve a file full of horrors that echo in her memory and then she runs to Clint. 

.

“Can you tell me?” he asks, arms wrapped around her, his voice gentle in her ear. His back is to the window; she faces the door. She cannot look at him, at anyone, until – 

“I was Natalia,” she says. “I danced.” The words pour out, half-sentences in a dozen languages, and Clint listens, fingers stroking along her stomach. 

When she at last falls silent, he presses a kiss to the back of her neck. She does not cry. She never cries. 

.

Natasha Romanoff meets Bucky Barnes on a warm spring day. He’s standing just behind and to the side of Steve, while she’s holding Clint’s hand.

There is much she does not remember, that she never will. She knows it is more than he has. 

He meets her eyes for a moment before dropping his gaze and leaning a little closer to Steve. 

“Hi,” she says after the silence grows awkward. “I’m Natasha.” 

“Bucky,” he says back.

.

A very long time ago, when he had no name, she was still Natalia. She thinks they danced. 

But there is much she doesn’t know. 

Now, she curls up on the couch in her room in Stark’s tower, and Clint stretches out beside her, his head in her lap, and she has Jarvis stream ballet to the screen. She can still feel another man’s hands on her, gentle and strong, but she will never ask if he remembers. 

She smiles at Clint, holds his hand, and looks to the future.


End file.
